Un soir catastrophique
by flyin'rabbit
Summary: Fleur has been on many boring dates already. Her date for tonight, though, might not be as boring as all the others...


**Disclaimer**: I don't own the world of Harry Potter, sadly :(

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I was standing in my small bathroom, preparing myself for my date tonight. Glancing at the time, I saw that I was already late. Oh well. Being late for a date was one way to see whether or not a bloke was actually interested, so it was not an unusual thing for me. I had been on countless dates already, only to find that, without exception, everyone thought that I was just some pretty face. I was blond, so I had to be brainless and easy. My grandmother was a Veela, so I had to be incredibly shallow. At least my date for tonight would be different, or so I silently hoped. After working together with me for a couple of months, Bill Weasley had better know that I was not stupid. I had competed in the Triwizard Tournament for Merlin's sake, and I had managed to get a job at Gringotts; they don't employ idiots there!

Deciding that I looked perfect enough, I grabbed my purse and disapparated to the small restaurant Bill had given me directions to. As expected, he was already there, looking slightly bored. When he saw me, he at least had the decency to replace his bored expression with a happier one.

"Fleur," he said, getting up from his chair, "I'm glad you could make it." He kissed my cheek lightly and pulled back my chair. That definitely scored him some points, I thought, as I sat down gracefully. No one I had dated had done that before.

Before I could reply, a waiter was already standing by our table, carrying a jug of water. After carefully setting it on our table, he turned to us. "Can I help you, sir, madam?"

I glanced at Bill; surely the waiter must have seen me enter only half a minute earlier? "We're still making up our minds, sir," Bill told him.

"Anything to drink, perhaps?" the waiter pressed. Bill sighed and looked my way, as if to tell me to handle this.

"No, thank you, sir, I just came in," I told him. Then I turned back to Bill. "I'm glad you could make it too," I said, giving him a small smile. "How – er, was work today?" I hadn't worked that day so I wouldn't know; still, it was a rather lame attempt to start a conversation, I decided. We talked about work too much already, namely, at work.

"It was okay," he answered. "Nothing unusual. How was your day off?"

Just as I was about to answer, we were interrupted. "Well, I'll just come back later, then," the waiter, who obviously hadn't left yet, said, sounding irritated. "If you're ever going to make a decision on what you want for dinner."

Bill raised his eyebrows at the waiter's retreating back and I said, "They are not exactly friendly towards customers here, are they?"

"Well, they are… at least, the last time I was here, they were friendly enough. Maybe it's just this one. Do you maybe want some water?" he asked, obviously trying to change the subject.

"Sure, why not?" I answered, handing him my glass. As it turned out, Bill wasn't exactly a master in pouring water into a glass. He ended up spilling most of the jug's contents on his trousers and I had to try hard to refrain from laughter, especially when he seemed a bit indecisive about what to do about it.

"Bill, just wave your wand, and it's gone, simple as that," I whispered, still trying to contain my giggles. I reached for my wand (which was in my purse), as Bill stopped me.

"Fleur – this is a Muggle restaurant. I can't simply cast a drying spell, that would be much too obvious!" I looked around to see if anyone even noticed that he had spilt the water, and indeed – about 20 people (at least!) were watching us, either looking amused or disapproving.

"Why are we in a Muggle restaurant, for Merlin's sake?" I hissed at him.

"Because it's the best restaurant I know," he hissed back. I noticed that, by now, our faces were actually quite close. Trying not to blush, I regained my normal posture. That was indeed a valid reason for us to be here; if it was really good, it didn't really matter what kind of restaurant it was.

After we had thoroughly read the menu, we came to a decision on what to eat. But, of course, the waiter didn't come anywhere near us now. Evil man, that one. While Bill excused himself for a minute to try and dry his trousers, I kept trying to get the attention of some waiter. Too bad that if I'd try and make my inner Veela really come out, it wouldn't be just the waiters who would come. And I couldn't imagine Bill really appreciating that.

So I settled for just checking my make-up while Bill was gone, but when I grabbed my purse and began to rummage through it, I came to a shocking realisation: my wand wasn't there. I was sure that I had brought it with me, but now, I couldn't find it anymore.

Panicking, I looked around. After a bit of searching, I spotted it, lying very close to the bar, on the floor, of course. I casually walked over there, when suddenly, some waiter (not the rude bloke from before) positioned himself right in between me and the bar. And sure, my wand caught his eye. The man bent over and picked it up, looking at it with a curious look on his face.

"Fleur? What are you doing?"

"I could ask you the same thing," I told Bill, who had, by now, returned from the lavatory and had decided that it was funny to question my actions.

"I came to ask some waiter to come. Or were you planning to do that, too?"

"Er – yeah, I was. Why don't you sit down, I'll be right back."

"Oh, no, you sit down. I can't let a lady ask the waiter for her food, can I?" Hypocrite. So I'm not allowed to ask a waiter to come and take our order, but when a waiter needs to be told off, I am the one to do that? Right.

Walking back to our table, I suddenly remembered that I hadn't been there, in fact, to find a waiter. But by that time, Bill had caught up with me.

"He'll be here in a minute," he told me, smirking slightly. I immediately knew that this couldn't be good. "And – Fleur, are you sure you just wanted to make sure that we'd be served soon?"

I flushed. There was no way that I could get out of this unscathed, right? "Why are you asking?" I said in the end.

"Because the waiter showed me this. He was quite curious about it, so I told him it was my stick-insect that had fallen asleep." As he said this, he held out my wand for me.

"Yeah. Right. Thanks," I said, taking my wand from him, still feeling my face burn.

"I don't know if I told you yet, but you look absolutely stunning tonight," Bill proceeded. "Of course, you're always beautiful, but you've really outdone yourself tonight, Fleur." Sure, I was used to being complimented for my looks, but Bill had never really seemed affected by my Veela blood, so it was very nice to hear that he still found me pretty. For some reason, hearing him saying that made me all jittery inside.

"Thanks," I mumbled, not feeling quite like myself.

"Oh, aren't you two cute!" As you might have guessed, the ill-mannered waiter was back. I briefly closed my eyes and I could hear Bill groan slightly opposite me. "Now, I hear you've made your choice?"

Bill then ordered our food as politely as he could, but I heard a tinge of frustration in his voice. Fortunately, the waiter didn't stick around now. Around us, people were getting up to leave already; I couldn't blame them, it was getting later and later, and we hadn't even gotten our food yet.

After we had talked a little more, our food came, faster than I expected. But by now, they wouldn't have a lot to do in the kitchens anymore, I reckoned. I had ordered some pasta myself, but, even though I had seen some strange dishes in France, I couldn't quite identify whatever it was that Bill was now eating. I decided that I probably wouldn't want to know anyway.

I suddenly snapped out of my thoughts as I felt something drop in my lap. Fearing the worst, I looked down and indeed, I now had a _charming_ red stain on my dress. And since it still was a Muggle restaurant, I couldn't just wave my wand and be done with it. As if this date wasn't disastrous enough already.

"Bill," I hissed; I wasn't sure why I was hissing, it wasn't as if there were so many people left here. "Do you want a dessert?"

"Dessert?" he echoed me. "We just got our dinner, why don't we first finish that?"

Once again, I blushed a little. "Because I – er, just spilt some of my pasta on – well, my dress."

He tried not to laugh, I could see it in his face. "In that case, I think we'll skip dessert," he said, winking slyly, before returning to his dish, and I returned to mine.

Right after we had both finished, I started frantically waving my arms, hoping to catch a waiter's attention. Bill (I thought I saw him rolling his eyes; I hope he didn't really do that) grabbed my arm and pulled it down. "Fleur, I know you're anxious to leave, but let's not get _too_ stressed out, alright?" I smiled sheepishly, but any response I could have given to that was drowned out by our dear friend, the waiter.

"Ah, you're done, I can see. Now, do you want some dessert, or – "

"No, thanks, we're quite full," Bill interrupted him, probably just as keen to get out as I was. "It was delicious. But there's no room for dessert anymore, I'm afraid. So, if you could just get me the bill, that would be great, sir."

The waiter looked mildly offended. "Our desserts are fantastic too, sir! I'm sure that you'll love them."

"Yes, so am I, but we're quite full and – " he looked around, seeming a bit distressed, "and the lady is pretty tired, so I think we should really go."

The waiter eyed me accusingly, and I had to fight back the urge to roll my eyes. The managers here must have really been desperate for employees; I couldn't imagine that any sane person would want to hire this man. As soon as Bill had paid (since he had said that I, apparently, was tired, I decided that I, for my part, was too tired to even start a discussion with him about who had to pay), we got up and made our way towards the door. We were the last persons to leave. Which was good, because we both looked absolutely ridiculous, I had to admit. To make matters even worse, I almost tripped over the doorstep, but luckily, Bill kept me on my feet.

We apparated back to my apartment then. "Did you just really use me as an excuse to get out of that place?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at Bill, but not really mad.

"You were the one who wanted to leave without dessert," he shot back.

"Yeah, I know," I admitted. "The food was good, though. I wish I could say the same about the way we were being served. Quite disastrous."

Bill laughed out loud. "I have no idea what that idiot was doing there, honestly. But I told you the food was great."

"I know," I repeated. "But I must say, this was quite an unusual date. For me at least."

"Oh, so now you think that I go on dates like this every day, or what?" he asked me, eyes twinkling. "But, Fleur, seriously – what would you say if I asked you to try this again? Without all the things that went wrong."

"Are you asking me out again?" I asked playfully, though perfectly aware that that was, indeed, what he was trying to do.

"Hm, I might," he answered, smirking slightly.

"Well, and I might just think that that's an excellent idea," I said, smiling slyly, and I stepped inside my apartment. "See you tomorrow, Bill." He held up his hand in greeting and after closing my door, I leaned against it for a moment, smiling. It seemed that this disastrous date hadn't been a complete disaster after all.


End file.
